Dense cloak of vapor ghostly galloping through cypress, over ferns and wetting the moss. Misting salt water on redwoods, pine and eucalyptus.
Fog is a cloak between what is seen and unseen, a dank and divine trench coat.
Walk through and enter another dimension, time travel beyond and back again.
The veil between worlds evokes cryptic poetry.
Its mystery calls for a whiskey and cigar to tell tales of old.
Its atmosphere makes meaning of wandering ghosts, of those that are here solving puzzles from prior times, of those fragments of us wandering around until what was lost becomes found.
With a hush and shiver, it gallops in fluid formation, making known what is always there.
It exposes the image on the latent film.